


Silence

by kiterious



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiterious/pseuds/kiterious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t the torture that broke him.<br/>It was the silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

It wasn't the torture that broke him.

It wasn't feeling his brothers _ripping_ and _tearing_ and _cutting_ and _snapping_ and _burning_ every part of his body until he was sure there was left for him but death, until he found himself begging for it because how could anything be worse than this?

No, the torture was bad but the time in between was worse. The time when Thaddeus threw him back into his cage and just _left_ him there. Alone. Surrounded by nothing but empty darkness and _silence_.

He hated silence.

Back at his post outside the garden it had been quiet. Peaceful. But never silent. Whether it was the rustling of trees, the far-off voices of the humans he was protecting, the gentle bubbling of the stream, there was always some kind of sound.

But here there was _nothing_.

In Eden when he got lonely he would tune into the vast network of minds connected by grace, a content smile coming to his face as he listened to the mental buzz of conversation. He would quietly enjoy the hushed chatter of his siblings, occasionally giving his input when he felt it was needed but mostly just listening.

He would give anything just to be able to _listen_.

But of course they'd made sure he couldn't. The dungeon had been covered in sigils that severed that connection. Walking into the cell had felt like having a piece of him forcefully ripped out, a comparison he could now say was accurate having felt pieces being _ripped_ off and _torn_ to shreds. 

Eventually he'd almost begun to look forward to his sessions with Thaddeus. At least Thaddeus spoke. At least he could hear Thaddeus. Even if the words were cold and cruel, they were words. And he needed to _hear_ something, to connect with _anyone_.

Going from being a single piece of a tightly interlocking community to being a single, solitary being, from hearing them talk in the back of your mind every second of your life to hearing _nothing_ was far worse than any act of torture even Thaddeus, who had proven to be very creative, could come up with.

Sometimes he could hear something. If he focused hard enough, used every bit of his slowly fading grace and reached out with his entire being, and if someone was close enough to his dark corner of Heaven. He would catch a word or two, sometimes a sentence, sometimes even a whole conversation. It left him weak, panting on the ground as his head spun with exhaustion but it was worth it to hear, to _connect_. He would throw himself at it, clutching at the words like a child clinging to a blanket in the hopes that it would protect him from the deafening silence of _darkness_.

But it never lasted long. He would lose his focus, or the voices would move out of his reach, and he would be left with _nothing_. No one to hold onto but himself, and no sounds but his own broken sobs.

\-------------------------------------------------------

That's when they'd brought Abner.

Even before he'd spoken to the other angel Gadreel had loved him. His presence, his mind, his _grace_. Even just the sound of breathing that was not his own filled him with relief.

So he had reached out to Abner. They had not asked each other for their stories; they didn't care. Gadreel was just happy to have someone, anyone to help lessen his loneliness, someone to share his suffering with. Someone to _listen_ to. Abner was the best thing that ever happened to him.  He didn't care so much about the pain anymore because he knew that when it was over he'd get to come back to Abner.

He soon learned that there were some sounds worse than silence.

Abner's screams tore into him worse than any blade ever could, the agony in his voice setting Gadreel's soul ablaze with more pain than holy fire. With every _crack_ he could feel his heart snapping in half.

When they'd finally finished with him Thaddeus had thrown Abner's broken form into the cell beside him, stopping only a moment to sneer at the tears streaming down Gadreel's face.

Gadreel did everything he could for Abner, given him every bit of grace he could afford to spare in a desperate attempt to save the only thing in that cage he cared about. All the while he whispered assurances, apologies, compliments, anything he could think to say to keep Abner from having to suffer in _silence_ as he had.

When it was once more his turn to squirm beneath Thaddeus' blade, he'd bit his tongue. He'd endured the pain, _ignored_ it, anything to keep himself from putting his friend through the same heartbreak he'd felt. He learned to muffle his screams, to swallow every grunt and yelp, quietly taking everything Thaddeus threw at him until finally the torturer grew bored with him.

Gadreel's torture came less often as Thaddeus lost interest, and his grace slowly returned to him, stronger and stronger every day. And he used every bit of it on Abner.

Especially when Thaddeus became more harsh on the younger angel. He couldn't break Gadreel's will through torture, not now that he had something to be strong for. But he could break Abner.

Things got worse and worse, to the point where Gadreel truly thought Thaddeus was going to kill Abner. He had begged, pleaded for him to take him instead, cringing and wincing and _screaming_ as Abner was forced to suffer pain a thousand times worse than anything either of them had faced. He promised he would scream, cry, break, whatever Thaddeus wanted. But Thaddeus ignored him, simply grinning wider and continuing to rip away at Abner's life.

Finally, it stopped.

For a few seconds Gadreel thought Abner was dead. For that few seconds he felt like _he_ was dead. After all, what was life without Abner? Pain. Torture. _Silence_.

But he had managed to put his friend back together, like always. And there they'd sat, each broken in their own way, their voices and graces intertwined as they desperately clung to each other. It was a horrible life, but at least they had each other. Always had each other.

He should have known that wouldn't last forever.

He should have known something was wrong when the guards had dragged him off to Thaddeus for the first time in years. Not Abner, him. But rather than suspicious, he'd been overjoyed. After all, any time Thaddeus spent on him was time he wasn't spending hurting Abner.

He had screamed. Partly for Thaddeus' benefit- maybe if his reaction was satisfying enough Abner would be forgotten?- and partly because it had been so long since he'd actually felt physical pain. But he had sat still, not fighting against Thaddeus' wishes, and not once thinking to question the sadistic guard's motives.

He should have known better.

He knew something was wrong as soon as they returned him to his dark, empty cell.

 _Empty_.

Abner was gone. He had asked the guards, begged them to answer him, to tell them where his friend had gone. But they ignored him like they always did, leaving him alone with his confusion and panic.

And _silence_.

\-------------------------------------------------------

When he first felt the pull of the spell he thought it was just a new kind of torture. After all, what else did he have to expect in this place? But then he was suddenly _falling_. He could feel himself spiral through the darkness, his wings burning as he _fell_.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped and everything was still.

Still. Not silent.

For the first time in... he didn't know how long, a thousand years at _least_ , he heard the sound of wind rushing through grass. The sound of leaves softly brushing against each other. He could hear birds chirping in the distance, crickets chirping, footsteps...

And he could hear _them_.

The voices of the angels rang through his mind for the first time in what felt like _forever_. He could hear hundreds of overlapping conversation, like a sea of words washing over him and surrounding him in a way he had longed to feel since the day they were _ripped_ away from him.

He listened- how amazing it felt to be able to do that again!- and learned that something had cast them out of Heaven. No one seemed to know what. Everyone was in a panic, desperately trying to make sense of what had happened. It made him guilty to admit but he cherished every anguished cry and every despair filled question like a drowning man cherished air. He wasn't happy that they were suffering, far from it. Just happy that he could _hear_ them.

They weren't as happy to hear him.

It was a mistake, and he hadn't meant to do it. It had become second nature for him to comfort those that were hurting. After all, it was all he'd been doing for centuries.

But they weren't as grateful as Abner.

The scrambled confusion he felt through the Host's mental network was instantly replaced with anger. The few who recognized him _seethed_ with hatred, some of them blaming him for even this. He quickly pulled back, withdrawing himself from the connection with a startled gasp.

He had almost forgotten what he'd been locked away for in the first place. What they all thought he'd done. Why everyone but Abner had abandoned him.

He stuck to listening after that.

Angels weren't the only thing he heard. He heard _humans_. Thousands of them, more even than angels. They were everywhere. They had grown and spread and _created_. It was amazing to see how brilliant his Father's creations had grown to be, and he found himself wanting to learn _more_.

Then he found his vessel. The man had been kind, and easily agreed to help the strange angel. It pleased Gadreel to see what had become of the precious creatures he had failed to protect. They were not twisted creatures of rage and hate like he had been worried they would become when Lucifer had first tempted them away from the Garden. They were compassionate, helpful, kind, and he already loved them.

The man who'd offered him his aid was even more beautiful from the inside. His mind was complex and multi-dimensional in ways Gadreel couldn't hope to understand. He loved how even when sleeping his vessel never stopped thinking, and he enjoyed the constant hum of thoughts that ran constantly through his head.

Then he had heard the prayer.

He had kept his mind open, of course. After being closed off from everything for so long he wanted nothing more than to soak it all in, to revel in every whispered word that reached his ears.

But one stood out more than the others.

It wasn't so much the prayer itself as the reaction it got from the other angels. He caught the words Dean Winchester and Castiel and Apocalypse, the reactions ranging from panic to _rage_.

He frowned. The human had asked for help. He deserved aid, not more trouble.

He reached out to pinpoint the boy's location. It wasn't far from where he was currently, and he was certain if he went to him he could help the others to find an alternative to what they were planning, to resolve their problems peacefully rather than fight.

He had seen enough of his brothers suffering.

He arrived at the cold, dark room that reminded him so much of the dungeons he almost didn’t want to enter. But it wasn't nearly as _silent_ as his cage had been. He reached them just in time to stop an angel-- he recognized him, though he'd never met him personally. A newer angel by the name of Raguel-- from killing the boy who’d prayed for help. Dean Winchester.

He tried to convince him to stop the fighting. He just wanted everyone to stop _hurting_ each other.

He didn’t expect the angel to fight back. Didn’t expect the wave of exhaustion that washed over him as he tried to restrain him, weak from years of imprisonment. Didn’t expect the human, Dean, to have an angel blade. Didn’t expect to wake up inside a circle of Holy Fire.

He understood why the others didn’t like this human. Dean fought back. Lucifer may have been the only angel banished from Heaven for pride, but he was certainly not the only one guilty of it. Angels did not like being defied.

Gadreel decided he liked Dean Winchester. He was fighting to save his brother. Gadreel could relate to that.

So he tried his best to save Sam. Pushed every bit of grace he had into him just like he had with Abner all those years ago. He knew what it felt like to lose a brother, and he wouldn’t let Dean feel the same pain.

But he failed.

Just like that, all his joy at being free was replaced with _guilt_. Because this wasn’t the first time he hadn’t been able to save humanity. And it wasn’t the first time he'd seen that anger and _disappointment_ that was flaring in Dean's eyes...

He should have been able to do it. He’d built Abner back from almost nothing time and time again. But he and Abner had been connected, their graces intertwined so tightly they were almost one being. It was much harder to try and force his grace into all the little cracks in a soul from the outside.

The only way to save Sam was from the inside. He told this to Dean. And Dean agreed.

Sam’s mind was even more complex than his first vessel’s. It was beautiful too, of course. Filled with thoughts and memories and _feelings_ he made sure not to touch, not to disturb. But even from just the accidental glimpse he caught every now and then he could tell that Sam Winchester was broken too. And he heard something. A quiet stream of thoughts racing through his subconscious.

_I failed, I’m sorry, I let you down, it’s not your fault, it’s mine, I'm impure, I'm sorry, I deserved to die…_

It took him a couple seconds to realize that they weren’t his thoughts. They were Sam’s. Sam was just like him. Lost, guilty, broken...

He didn’t know what to think of Sam Winchester.

\-------------------------------------------------------

The more time he spent with the Winchesters, and the more he learned from Sam’s memories, the more he liked them. The way they looked out for each other, the way their very existence was based around the other… it was beautiful. 

It made him miss his family.

But not so much that he approved of the amount of contact the brothers had with them. He knew what would happen if they found him. The small burst of rage he’d felt through ‘angel radio’, as Dean called it, was nothing compared to what would happen if they found him.

He would be captured. Taken from Sam, and Dean. Sam would die. And they would throw him back into a cage.

A lonely, _silent_ cage.

He wouldn’t let that happen. Never again. He refused to go back to that. He _couldn’t_.

But being with the Winchesters was only a step above being alone. He couldn’t let Sam know of his presence. Dean seemed to have no desire to speak to him despite his many attempts at conversation. It wasn’t silent, but it was lonely.

So when one of his brothers approached him, he had listened. And more surprisingly, he was _heard_. Metatron believed him. Metatron forgave him. Metatron offered to help him.

And he accepted.

Until his new saviour revealed his price. At first he wasn’t going to do it. Redemption wasn’t worth this. Nothing was.

Then Dean tried to cast him out.

Tried to _tear_ him away from Sam just as he’d been _torn_ away from his family. He would be alone again. Until they found him. And then...

No. He couldn’t let them find him. Not again. Never again. He would do anything not to go back to that cold,  _silent_ isolation.

So he did what he had to do.

He would fight with Metatron to save Heaven. His brothers and sisters would forgive him. He would be welcomed home with open arms and a flood of happy voices. He would be forgiven, his crimes paid for and his mistakes fixed. He would be _loved_.

And he would never have to suffer _silence_ ever again.


End file.
